


Dancing With Yourself

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Series: Library of Moria Series [1]
Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003), Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Song Lyric Title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-18
Updated: 2003-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-17 08:00:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aragorn has an interesting experience with a pond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing With Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> First in the Library of Moria Series (thus named because every fic in the series came about because of boredom and Library of Moria's [Random Pairing Generator](http://www.libraryofmoria.com/rpgmm.html)).
> 
> Series Explanation: I was bored. I was browsing the Library of Moria website. I played around with the pairing generator. The following stories are what resulted. 30 minute fics.

The face in the water didn't blink. Aragorn pondered this for a moment and then splashed   
the puddle in anger. The face in the water was him. But it was so...perfect. It had no   
flaws, no nervous, irritating habits. It did not have to worry about bathing, or eating,   
or being polite. It was perfect. And it wasn't real.

How much of this is truly real, Aragorn wondered. How much of life was real? Lord Elrond   
had taught him basic philosophy, but the meaning of life had not been among the topics.   
Of course not. Why should immortals care about the meanings of the small, pitiful lives   
of men?

As if in defiance of its master, the puddle had returned to normal. No waves broke its   
surface, and Aragorn's face stared back at him. Unblinking. Unflinching. Unnerving.

'Tell me what you know,' Aragorn begged it silently. 'Tell me what you know, that I   
don't, that leaves you so serene. So perfect. How could anyone hate the face in the   
mirror?' He sighed and slowly lowered himself to the ground beside the small pool. The   
image in the puddle mirrored him exactly. Yet it did not blink when he did.

"Tell me what you see," Aragorn whispered. "Tell me why you are content to merely be a   
reflection of everything that goes past you. Tell me why you do not itch to put your   
mark on everything. Tell me why you sit here in silence and let others make of you what   
they will."

Aragorn's hand slipped almost unnoticed into his leggings as he continued to stare at   
the puddle. His mirror-self smiled and Aragorn wondered why. His hand continued,   
lowering the tightening leggings without their owner consciously realizing. The puddle   
seemed so unthreatening, Aragorn thought. 'It is content. It is content to be what it   
is.'

'Unlike men,' he realized with sudden clarity, as his hand started to move faster. 'Men   
are never content. Men strive to be better, or worse, than they had been previously. Men   
*desire*. Men covet. Men...live.'

Breath coming in short gasps now, Aragorn studied the puddle once more. It seemed almost   
self-satisfied. Like it had imparted a particularly difficult lesson to a dolt of a   
pupil. Aragorn had seen that expression much in his life. He had never expected to see   
it on his own face.

And then the hand's work was over, seed spilling over into the puddle. Aragorn looked at   
his mirror in horror. In understanding. Mirrors, puddles, other images. Everything you   
want. They consume you utterly, until you hardly know yourself. Until you hardly know   
what you are doing.

Until you can hardly recognize yourself in your mirror image.


End file.
